


Stolen moments

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 13 of the Mapmaker Series. A human woman joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to Erebor as a mapmaker and finds a lifelong love.</p>
<p>A new dress leads to a tryst in the council chamber.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen moments

You were nearly late, rushing through the halls of Erebor toward the council chamber, clutching a roll of parchments under your arm. You had taken more time than you should have to dress yourself, but you’d decided at the last minute that you just had to wear your new gown. Thorin hadn’t even seen it yet, and you were so pleased with the way the deep blue fabric draped over your curves and flattered your skin tone that you couldn’t wait to wear it somewhere. 

Now, its full skirt was flowing behind you as you quickly approached the chamber, taking a moment to catch your breath before opening the heavy door. The dwarves assembled for the council meeting were just taking their seats, and you responded to their their words of greeting with smiles and nods, crossing the room to slip into your chair beside Ori, who was to take notes, as usual. You felt Thorin’s eyes on you as you walked, but in your haste, you didn’t meet his glance until you were seated. He was looking at you with an admiring smile, his eyes flickering over your figure, and you felt your cheeks warm under his openly appreciative gaze.

The meeting came to order, and though you listened carefully, alert for any need of your input, you kept catching Thorin staring at you. At first, you would smile briefly at him and diligently return your focus to the subject at hand. But the more often he looked at you, the more you noticed the gleam in his eye that told you he was simultaneously approving of the new gown and imagining you out of it. Finally, boldly, you held your husband’s stare, seeing him unconsciously wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, your own lips curving in the smallest of smirks when Balin nudged him under the table to direct his attention to the chief stonemason, who had just concluded his report on the progress of repairing the damage to the Front Gate. 

“Very good,” Thorin said smoothly. “Do we have here the plans showing the design for the restored Gate?” 

“Yes, my lord,” you rose from your seat and walked around the table with the parchment. You couldn’t resist subtly brushing against him as you leaned over his shoulder to lay the drawings on the table before him, and you saw him hide a smile as you walked demurely back to your chair and the review of the plans continued.

When the meeting had finally concluded, Thorin saw the attendees out, chatting with them and thanking them for their time, and you went to the small wooden table that stood against the wall bearing a golden carafe and a set of goblets. You filled a goblet with water and took a long, refreshing drink, arching your back in a stretch after sitting for so long. 

You had just emptied your cup when Thorin appeared behind you, one arm encircling your waist, his other hand sweeping all of your hair to one side, over your shoulder. You set the goblet down and tilted your head slightly to offer him your exposed neck, where he placed a string of kisses from your pulse point down to your shoulder.

“You look especially beautiful in that dress,” he murmured, and you smiled. 

“I hoped you would like it.” 

“Oh, I do.” The brush of his beard on your skin sent pleasant shivers down your spine, and you turned around to face him, winding your arms around his neck as his lips met yours hungrily, and he stepped forward in the embrace, moving to press your back against the wall behind you.

You had kissed Thorin hundreds of times and would kiss him thousands more, but the touch of his lips and the closeness of his body would always make you weak in the knees. You buried your fingers in his thick hair, pulling him nearer, bracing yourself against the stone wall, lifting your chin as his mouth moved to your jawline. “Shall we adjourn to our rooms?” you whispered. 

“No time,” he mumbled, between nibbles at your earlobe. “Oin is coming to see me about expanding the healing room.” 

You gave a sigh of frustration, tugging at handfuls of his hair to guide him back to your lips, which you parted eagerly to receive his insistent kisses. Your eyes flew open in surprise when you felt your skirts lifted and his hand on the bare skin of your thigh. “Thorin!” you gasped in a breathless giggle, glancing around the room. “In the council chamber?” 

“The door is locked,” he purred, a seductive smile playing about his lips. 

Stroking his cheek with your thumb, you answered him with a smile of your own. “I am yours, my King.”

And with that, you threw caution to the wind, returning his heated caresses in kind, twining your legs around him as he lifted you in his arms, the coolness of the stone at your back seeping through the fabric of your dress…

You were smoothing your hair and shaking your skirts back into place, exchanging mischievous grins and slow kisses with Thorin, when you opened the door to leave and nearly ran smack into Oin, who stood on the threshold. “Oh!” you gasped, “Oin, I am so sorry, I must watch where I’m going,” you smiled apologetically. 

“No harm done, lass,” the elderly dwarf said cheerfully. You moved to go, but Oin suddenly looked at you sharply. “My dear, are you well?” 

“Quite well, Oin,” you replied pleasantly, puzzled. 

He peered at your face. “You look flushed,” he pronounced, in a concerned tone. 

You immediately became more so, guiltily dropping your eyes to the floor as you heard a cough from Thorin that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh. Before you could say a word, Oin laid a practiced hand on your forehead. “A bit feverish, I fear…do you have any pain?” 

“Oh, no…no,” you stammered, mortified, “I just…I’ve been sitting in this close room all morning, I probably just need a bit of fresh air…thank you, I won’t keep you…” Not daring even to look at Thorin, you escaped through the open door and scurried down the hallway, hearing Oin telling Thorin he’d be happy to send some herbs to your chambers if they were needed.

You were sprawled on your bed, reading, when Thorin came home a few hours later. As soon as your eyes met his, you burst into laughter, joined by his hearty chuckle. “Poor Oin,” you said, shaking your head, “I hope he’s not too worried about me.” 

“No,” Thorin replied, taking off his belt and overcoat and throwing them over a chair. “I convinced him that you were fine, just a bit overworked. He suggested that it might be good for you to take some time each day to lie down, which I told him was an excellent notion.” He grinned wickedly at you as he sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots, and you threw a pillow at him, chortling. He stretched out on the bed with a sigh of relaxation. 

Closing your book, you rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him, and he leaned to kiss you softly. “I do love you,” he mused. 

“Not as much as I love you,” you teased. 

“Even more,” he insisted, smiling. “And I should thank you.” He took your hand and kissed it, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve never had such an enjoyable day at council.”


End file.
